


it should be criminal that you could be mine

by softirwin



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, isnt this a lovely day, its not exactly long tbh but its longer than most of mine are and literally most of it is flashbacks, jm so sorry for this entire fic honestly it cmopletely ran away with me, when it was at like 1.5k i was like This is going to be a nice short one!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t help but get a little jealous when Ashton and Luke start properly dating, though. He can’t help but get jealous of the way Ashton’s always taking Luke out for dinner, always holding his hand, always buying him presents, always making these romantic gestures that Michael’s never had from Calum. </p>
<p>(or, calum's version of a dinner date)</p>
            </blockquote>





	it should be criminal that you could be mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LyricalPary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricalPary/gifts).



> ITS BEEN SO LONG IM UPDATING SO INFREQUENTLY AND IM SO SORRY ABOUT THAT honestly school is stressing me out so much wtf is this my new school have it in for me i swear
> 
> ANYWAY i have a list of people to mention lets begin
> 
> first of all thank you to [georgie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lazhton) for letting me use and change a smut drabble she wrote me like two months ago to fit this fic and for helping me with songs and listening to me whine all day and actually for the past 2 years ur a top lad georig 
> 
> thank you to [katie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mccolfer) for giving me inspiration for the title of the playlist Babe 
> 
> thanks [emily](http://twitter.com/wtfcllffords) for ur shitty suggestion :/// oh and also for suggesting the flashbacks my oen true love 
> 
> and finally this is for [pary](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalpary) since this all started in a conversation i had with her the other day and actually we have a lot of ideas in our conversations that we really need to start writing but yes one of my absolute favourite people to talk to

The thing is, Michael _knows_ Calum loves him.

He sees it in everything Calum does. He sees it in the way he smiles at Michael, the way he holds his arms open without even asking if Michael needs a hug, the way he presses soft kisses to Michael’s hair, the way he’s always there even when Michael doesn’t ask him to be. He sees it in the way Calum looks at him when he thinks Michael can’t see, in the late-night texts he gets, in the look on Calum’s face when he looks over at Michael onstage. He sees it in everything Calum does.

And Michael _knows_ Calum’s not one for sweeping romantic gestures. He’s never been the Say Anything boom-box kind of guy, more the kind of guy to chuck his iPod at Michael’s head and tell him to listen to something on it until he’s happy again and not bother Calum until that moment.

(Michael always chooses the same songs, and Calum knows exactly what they are. The ‘Emo Michael Playlist’ on Calum’s iPod hadn’t been Michael’s creation.)

He can’t help but get a little jealous when Ashton and Luke start properly dating, though. He can’t help but get jealous of the way Ashton’s always taking Luke out for dinner, always holding his hand, always buying him presents, always making these romantic gestures that Michael’s never had from Calum.

It’s another one of those nights. Ashton likes to take Luke out, and Luke likes to be taken out, so that’s just what they’ve done, leaving Michael and Calum alone on the tour bus. Calum’s not even paying any attention to Michael, completely focused on his laptop screen, headphones on. Michael’s already tried the whole huff-loudly-until-the-supposed-love-of-your-life-pays-attention-to-you tactic but Calum didn’t even blink, making Michael huff even louder as he sunk back against the sofa.

That had been about fifteen minutes ago, and Michael’s starting to get bored of Twitter and PhotoBooth. He kind of wants to suck Calum’s dick, but he’s also still sulking about Calum not being as romantic as Ashton and also ignoring him so he can’t really go for that option.

“Calum,” Michael says. Calum’s eyes don’t stray from the laptop screen. “Calum. Calum. Cal. Calum. Hood. Calum. Dave Grohl just died.”

“What?” Calum says suddenly, wrenching his headphones down so they’re hung around his neck and staring at Michael with a stricken expression. “Tell me you’re lying.”

“I can’t believe I had to _lie_ to get your _attention_ whilst Luke’s out getting wined and dined by Ashton,” Michael says, folding his arms and trying not to pout like a four-year-old. “You’re the worst person I’ve ever had the misfortune of coming across in my _life_.”

“That’s clearly not true though, is it?” Calum mutters, eyes already back on the laptop screen. “You wouldn’t suck my dick so willingly otherwise.”

“Maybe I have an emotional-masochism kink,” Michael says. “Maybe I like being with people who _ignore me_.”

“You’re such a dickhead,” Calum sighs, ejecting a disk from his laptop and uncapping a permanent marker to write on it. Michael’s going to find that disk and break it later. “You’ve been whining about Ashton and Luke going to dinner _all evening_ , as if it’s any different from any other dinner they’ve been to.”

“That’s the _point_ ,” Michael says. “You never take me out, ever.”

“I can’t take you out looking like you murdered someone and deposited all their blood in your hair,” Calum says, scribbling on the disk.

“Low blow, Hood,” Michael says. “At least I don’t look like a Barakat-wannabe.”

“You might not look like one but you’re the biggest Barakat-wannabe this world has to offer,” Calum says, scraping his chair back and shutting his laptop. “Here. Maybe you’ll stop sulking after this.” He tosses the disk into Michael’s lap, and Michael frowns.

“What is it?” he calls after Calum, who’s already walked off to the bunk area.

“A dinner date,” Calum shouts back.

“Very funny,” Michael shouts, and then he flips the disk over.

Calum’s drawn what must be hundreds of tiny little hearts on it, messy and uneven but hearts all the same. It’s like a constellation of hearts on the disk, and Michael finds he’s smiling stupidly at the piece of plastic in his hand just because of the lopsided hearts Calum’s taken the time to draw on.

Whatever, though. He’s still not as romantic as Ashton and Michael’s definitely going to coerce Luke into swapping with him.

Michael slides the disk into the side of his own laptop, waiting for it to be recognised and automatically fire up iTunes. It comes up listed as ‘ _even if you never sucked my dick again i’d love you more than ashton ever could’_ and Michael takes the time to shake his head before plugging in his headphones and pressing play.

He recognises the first song on the playlist after only two seconds of it playing. It’s Dragostea Din Tei, a stupid Romanian song that was popular when they were eight years old. Michael’s startled into laughing when it starts up, remembering the time they tried to learn the lyrics.

_“C’mon,” Calum says excitedly, holding up the CD he’s so proud of owning in his hands. “We need to learn the words.”_

_“Okay,” Michael says, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Calum as he pulls the sheet of lyrics out of the front of the CD case._

_“What number is it?” Calum asks, and Michael reaches over to flip the CD case over._

_“Three,” he tells Calum, who skims the list looking for the third song. Michael reads it over his shoulder, and frowns. The words aren’t any he recognises, and he’s pretty sure they aren’t in a language he recognises either._

_“That’s not English,” he says, and Calum laughs._

_“Of course it’s not English, silly,” he says. “Did you think the song was in English?”_

_“No,” Michael says defensively, but Calum knows he’s lying. He feels stupid now, that he hadn’t even been able to tell it wasn’t English._

_“It’s okay, Mikey,” Calum says earnestly. “I used to think Scottish people didn’t speak English.”_

_“You’re stupid,” Michael says, but he’s relieved that Calum hadn’t made fun of him. “Let’s learn the words_. _”_

(Ten years later, Michael still remembers most of them.)

The next song jumps forwards a few years to when they were ten, when a friend of Mali’s had given Calum a CD of a band called Green Day that he’d decided he didn’t like anymore. Michael half-wishes the both of them had known where that CD would take them, wishes he could go back and tell their ten-year-old selves what the world had in store for them. It’d be worth it for the look on his face and the bollocking he’d get from his ten-year-old self, telling him to stop chatting shit.

_“What’s that?” Michael asks, shutting the door behind him as he walks in._

_“This?” Calum asks, looking at the CD in his hand. “Oh, nothing, just some CD Mali’s friend gave me. Said he doesn’t like the band anymore.”_

_“Is it good?” Michael asks._

_“I don’t know,” Calum says. “I haven’t listened to it. Do you want to listen to it?”_

_“Okay,” Michael says, sitting down on Calum’s bed. “Can I tell you about this cool boy with hair dye I saw the other day after?”_

_“Okay,” Calum says, shutting the lid of his CD player and pressing the play button. It starts whirring to life as he sits down on the bed next to Michael, so close their thighs are touching. “We can dye our hair one day.”_

_“Cool,” Michael says happily, and then the first song starts._

_It’s different to the stuff his mum and dad listen to, different to the stuff he’s heard on the radio or from Mali’s room when he’s at Calum's house. It’s got more energy, it’s more exciting, and it’s got this quality to it that makes Michael want to listen to it every single day and learn all the words and sing it loudly and out of tune. He likes the sound of the guitars, he likes the loudness of the drums, and he likes the sound of the man’s voice. He likes this song._

_“I like this,” he says, when it gets past the second chorus._

_“Me too,” Calum says, sounding a little surprised._

_“Who are the people that sang it?” Michael asks._

_“Um, a band called Green Day, I think?” Calum says._

_“Do you think Mum will buy it for me if I don’t tell her it’s got bad words in it?” Michael says hopefully._

_“No,” Calum says. “But it gives you more excuses to come to my house.”_

_(Michael’s mum says a firm ‘absolutely not’ when he begs her, but it’s okay because he gets to listen to the album with Calum every time he goes to Calum’s house, lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling and mouthing all the words. Or what he thinks the words are, anyway.)_

Calum and Michael still listen to the album all the way through sometimes, a headphone each, each doing their own thing in the van on the way to a show or spooning in Calum’s bunk at four in the morning. It reminds Michael of home, reminds him of all the years between the first time he’d listened to the album and now. It reminds him of Calum.

American Idiot finishes with the dramatic drum-and-guitar combination that Michael’s learnt to love so much, and the next song that starts makes Michael’s fond smile fade and him sober up immediately. It’s The Girl’s A Straight-Up Hustler, the first song that Calum ever kissed Michael to.

They’d been twelve when Calum had said it.

_“Michael,” he says._

_“Go away,” Michael says, focusing on his game. He can’t die now, and he knows he will if Calum keeps talking to him._

_“Michael,” Calum says again, and Michael groans as his car slams straight into a roadblock._

_“Great, look what you’ve done now,” he says, throwing his controller down in exasperation. “What d’you want?”_

_“I want to kiss you.”_

_He looks deathly afraid after the words have left his mouth, but he’s got his fists clenched and his chin tilted up defiantly, as if he’s already ready to defend himself when Michael makes fun of him. Michael’s kind of glad they’d put that CD Calum had bought in a charity shop the other day on, because the silence between them would have been unbearable otherwise._

_“Isn’t that a bit, y’know. Gay?” Michael asks, almost whispering the last word. He’s heard people talk about being gay, and it doesn’t sound like a good thing to be. He personally can’t see a problem with it, but according to Andrew at school it’s ‘unnatural’._

_“I think I might be a bit, y’know,” Calum says, swallowing and clearing his throat when his voice cracks a little. “A little bit gay. But not for everyone.”_

_“So for who?” Michael asks, confused. He thought being gay meant you were completely gay. He didn’t know there was a half-gay thing. “For Billie Joe Armstrong?”_

_“No,” Calum says. “Well, yes,” he amends after a minute. “But he’s old. I meant, like. You.”_

_“Oh,” Michael says. “Okay.”_

_“Okay what?” Calum asks, and he’s not even bothering to hide the nervousness in his tone anymore. Michael shrugs._

_“Okay, you’re a little bit gay for me. Okay, you can kiss me.”_

_“Really?” Calum asks, looking surprised. “I thought you were going to hit me.”_

_“Why would I hit you?” Michael asks, bewildered. “You’re my best friend, Calum.”_

_“Exactly,” Calum mutters, but Michael decides to leave it because it makes no sense to him. “So, uh. I can kiss you then?”_

_“Yeah,” Michael says. Calum doesn’t move, frozen in his position a little further up the bed than Michael, so Michael shifts instead, shuffling until his thigh is pressed against Calum’s. Calum still doesn’t move; the only movement is in his eyes, which widen slightly. “Are you gonna kiss me then, or what?” Michael says impatiently, when Calum says nothing either._

_“Uh, okay,” Calum says, sounding just as frightened as he looks._

_“Oh, for God’s sake,” Michael mutters, leaning forward and pressing their lips together. It’s awful, really, just them sitting frozen lip-to-lip – well, until Calum makes a little noise and parts his lips slightly, tilts his head, gives Michael better access. Michael’s never really kissed anyone like this before so he just goes with what he’s seen in movies – tilts his own head the other way, pulls himself closer to Calum, moves their lips against each other. It feels good, actually, feels really good, and Michael kind of hates that he’s got to breathe because he doesn’t want to stop having the soft warmth of Calum’s lips against his own, doesn’t want to not feel Calum’s smooth skin beneath his fingertips._

_They do have to break away at some point, though, but Michael makes sure to catch the back of Calum’s neck so he can’t pull away too far._

_“Okay,” he breathes._

_“Okay what?” Calum says._

_“Okay, I might be a little bit gay for you too.”_

_(All Michael can hear for the rest of the week is the ‘are you having a good time, sweetheart?’ that was playing when they broke apart.)_

Michael never listens to The Girl’s A Straight-Up Hustler anymore – never listens to any of the All Time Low songs Calum and Michael had kissed or fucked to – finding it a little bit weird because they’re friends with All Time Low now. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t still love the song though, love the memory of Calum’s lips against his own, love that their first kiss was that easy and that good. 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because the playlist’s carried on without him. It’s skipped another few years, landing on when they’re fifteen – Feeling This, Blink-182. It almost makes Michael groan out loud and hide his face in his hands because – Jesus Christ, it’s embarrassing.

They’d been fifteen, both horny teenagers, in something that wasn’t quite a relationship but wasn’t quite best friends either (which is kind of still where they’re stuck). They made out all the time but neither of them had ever let it go any further, too afraid of what might happen if they did.

_"Get off me, dickhead," Michael grumbles, as if the smile on his face doesn’t give his lack of seriousness away. He can try, alright._

_"No," Calum pouts. "You love me."_

_"I hate you."_

_"Quit being a little bitch and kiss me," Calum says, and Michael raises his eyebrows._

_"Is that really your best attempt at seduction?" he asks, and Calum grins._

_"I’m on top of you and we’ve been making out all afternoon," Calum reminds him. "I don’t need to seduce you."_

_“True, but-“ Michael starts, but he’s cut off by Calum’s lips meeting his, soft and warm and gentle._

_He doesn’t protest, doesn’t pull away - the bitching/fighting/flirting can wait until later. He loves this, loves kissing Calum whilst listening to Calum’s iPod on shuffle (it’s playing through all his Blink songs right now). They kiss for too long, lips moving against each other all soft and loving until it isn’t anymore, because, like, they’re teenage boys, okay, and it’s hot in Calum’s room with the sun glaring through the windows, and Calum’s hand fists at Michael’s shirt slightly as the kiss turns rougher._

_Calum kisses him harder, moving against him from where he’s still on top of Michael. It’s almost bruising, it’s desperate and kind of rough and really hot, and Michael can feel himself getting hard. He wants to pull away and stop everything before it becomes noticeable because what if it makes things awkward, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t want to end the kiss because Calum kisses kind of amazing and it’s Michael’s favourite feeling._

_He’s about to force himself to break the kiss, to pull away from underneath Calum when he realises something, when he feels Calum’s cock against his leg and he’s hit with the realisation that, fuck_ , _Calum’s hard too_.

_His best friend, his - whatever Calum is, his Calum – is getting hard because of Michael, he’s getting hard while kissing Michael, he’s getting hard on top of Michael and that makes Michael’s cheeks burn, makes him kiss Calum harder, makes him moan into the kiss._

_"Fuck," Michael swears when they break apart momentarily. Calum’s eyes are wide and glazed, and he whines, trying to chase Michael’s lips. "Fuck, Calum."_

_"Michael," Calum says, a little helpless, shifting against Michael so that he can feel_ everything _. "I want, I need - can we?"_

_Michael considers it for all of three seconds._

_"Yeah," he says, a bit breathless from the kiss, still. "We can."_

_Calum grins and kisses him again, but this time it feels fucking filthy because Calum’s fingers let go of the fabric of Michael’s shirt and they trail down over his stomach and his hips, down to his thighs, trailing over his jeans before he raises his hand up again and brings it over to Michael’s crotch and begins to palm him lightly through his jeans._

_"Fuck, Calum," Michael moans against his lips. "Please."_

_"Can I-" Calum bites his lip, and Michael hasn’t seen Calum this nervous in a long time, not since their first kiss, so like, this is kind of nostalgic - and he nods._

_"Yes, yes, obviously, idiot," Michael mumbles, and Calum rolls his eyes._

_"Don’t be rude to me when I’m about to get near your dick," he says, and Michael feels his heart jump as Calum shifts a little, giving himself full access to Michael’s crotch. He palms him once more before bringing his hands up to fist in Michael’s shirt again, grinding slow and steady against Michael’s cock instead. It takes both of them a little by surprise, makes them both gasp into each other’s mouths, because neither of them have done anything like this before._

_Calum looks so fucking hot over him, still straddling him, hair messy and cheeks pink and eyes bright every time the kiss breaks. His lips are kiss-swollen and Michael can’t stop kissing him. He wants to feel everything; Calum’s hands and his lips and his cock still pressed against Michael’s._

_“Fuck, c’mon,” Michael says desperately, trying to urge Calum on because this is too fucking good, too slow, too much time for Michael to feel it all and he’s not going to last, he’s going to come already._

_“Shit,” Calum breathes, kissing Michael again but not heeding to Michael’s plea, so Michael takes matters into his own hands. He arches his back, grinds up against Calum, and Calum moans against Michael’s lips and grinds down harder. It’s good, it’s so fucking good and it’s Calum which makes it all a thousand times better – it’s Calum on top of him, Calum kissing him like this, Calum hard against him, Calum that’s going to make him come. Michael’s already so fucking close to coming and he’s desperate and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life._

_"I’m gonna come," he gasps out, lips against Calum’s, who grins into the kiss before grinding against him three more times, slow but hard, until Michael comes. The only reason it’s not as embarrassing as it could be is because moments later, Calum comes too, caught up in the way that Michael swears and hisses and moans his name as he comes._

_All Michael can hear when the pounding in his ears starts to fade is ‘fate fell short this time, your smile fades in the summer, place your hand in mine, I’ll leave when I wanna’, and all he can think is ‘I can’t believe we had our first mutual orgasms to the sound of Mark Hoppus and Tom Delonge’s voices’._

It makes Michael cringe just thinking about it, thinking about how quickly he’d come – although, to be honest, it was his first time and he was fifteen. Still, though; Calum’s never let him forget that he’d made Michael come before Michael had made him come.

The next song on the playlist puts a fond smile on his face.

It’s a You Me At Six song – not one of Michael’s favourite bands but not one of his least favourites either. They’d been listening to it when they were sixteen, when the band was really starting to take off, when Calum had said it.

_“I prefer Hold Me Down,” Michael says, pulling a face._

_“Alright, Music Connoisseur Supreme,” Calum mumbles, kissing Michael’s neck. He’s got his arm draped around Michael’s waist, spooning him, and he’s been kissing along Michael’s shoulder and neck since they lay down. Michael kind of wants to turn over and kiss him and kind of wants Calum to keep showing him the kind of quiet affection only Calum can. “Nobody asked for your opinion.”_

_“I graced you with it anyway,” Michael says, and Calum huffs out a laugh against Michael’s skin._

_“You’re a fucking idiot,” Calum says._

_“I’m_ your _fucking idiot,” Michael says, grinning._

_“That’s true,” Calum says. “I love you.” Michael blinks._

_“You do?”_

_“Yeah,” Calum says. “I think I do.”_

_“That’s nice,” Michael says. “I love me too.”_

_“Shut up, you idiot,” Calum says, dropping his forehead against Michael’s shoulder. Michael doesn’t reply, and they lapse into silence._

_“I think I love you too,” Michael says after a moment of thoughtful silence._

_“That’s good,” Calum says. “It would be kind of shit if you didn’t.”_

_“I love us,” Michael says decidedly. “Yeah. I love us.”_

_“I love us too,” Calum says. “But mainly because you’re part of us.”_

_“Shut up, you fucking cutie,” Michael says, rolling over and kissing Calum hard._

_(He finds himself humming ‘what do I do when I am so in love with you’ for a good two weeks after that.)_

It makes Michael smile, just thinking about it. He’s heard it many times since then, but there’s never a time as special as the first. He still gets butterflies sometimes, when Calum hugs him from behind and rests his chin on Michael’s shoulder and says ‘ _morning love, what’s for breakfast?’_ or _‘I love you, y’know’_ or _‘I wanna suck you off when Luke and Ashton fuck off’_ (although the last one might not be butterflies), but it’s never going to be as good as the first time Calum had admitted it.

The penultimate song on the playlist is one of their own – Long Way Home, which Michael clearly remembers writing with Alex and Ashton. He remembers offering them the set of lyrics he’d written about a trip Michael and Calum had taken out one night when they were teenagers, and Ashton and Alex had both accepted them with knowing smiles. Michael had pretty much forced Calum into singing the bridge simply because he loves the way Calum says darling, and it makes him grin when he gets to it because he knows Calum’s singing it to him, for him, because of him.

The final song on the playlist turns out not to be a song at all.

It’s Calum, Calum from before he told Michael he loved him, Calum from when his voice had only just broken and was still cracking every other word. It’s young Calum speaking to older Michael, and it makes Michael’s heart ache.

“So, uh,” Calum starts, and laughs nervously. “I don’t really know what this is meant to be. I went to record a song but- every single song isn’t enough, y’know? None of them are _us_. And I’m not good enough at putting my thoughts and feelings into words to write a song for you, so.” He sighs. “Fuck that, though, yeah? I can speak about it, kind of. I can attempt to tell you in words how much I love you. Yeah, I love you.” He laughs again, a nervous edge still to it. “I noticed the other day when you darted across the room kissed me in detention in front of _everyone_ before Mr Pryce came in and I was like ‘fuck, I love this boy’. Yeah, fucking _detention_ made me realise that I loved you – how ‘us’ is that?” He laughs again, but it’s less nervous and more fond this time. “I love everything about you. I love your hair, your eyes, your smile, your- your everything, all of you. I love your sense of humour, your intelligence, love knowing the things that make you smile and laugh and the things that make you cry. I love all the things you do – the way you kiss me, the way you hold my hand, the way you skip from lesson to lesson, the way you get drunk with me and kiss me and tell me how much you need me. I love everything you are, everything you do, everything you’ve become. I’ve loved you for a long time, I think. I hope you love me too.” He pauses there, makes Michael’s heart ache a bit because Calum’s known he’s loved Michael for _so long_ and Michael hadn’t even thought about his feelings for Calum, hadn’t even thought what they might be.

“So, like. Maybe I should delete this, because I haven’t said anything I really wanted to say. I got a bit distracted by thinking about kissing you, to be honest. You’re my boy, yeah? You’re everything and then a little bit more. You’re the stars you keep talking about seeing in my eyes. ‘Cause really, what do you see when you look in someone’s eyes? You see a reflection of yourself, don’t you?” Calum pauses again, and Michael realises that his cheeks are actually starting to ache from the length of time he’s been smiling fondly at young Calum’s nervous speech. “Yeah, I should delete this, definitely. I’m not even planning on showing you this anyway. Not yet, by any means. Maybe when you tell me you love me – if you love me, that is. Fuck, I don’t even know why this is still recording. I hope you don’t laugh at this when you listen to it. I hope you get to listen to this before I die. I hope I get to show it to you before you die. Why am I talking about death? Christ, I’m tired. Goodnight,” Calum says. “Goodnight, goodbye, I love you. I hope I get to say this to you in person one day. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He huffs out a laugh again, and Michael’s smile broadens. “Yeah. See you tomorrow, in my world. Hopefully see you soon in your world too.” The recording cuts off there and Michael doesn’t move for a moment.

Jesus _Christ_.

He shoves his laptop aside, gets up and walks over to the bunk area, ripping Calum’s curtain open when he gets there. Calum, predictably, has his headphones on, but pulls them off when Michael opens the curtain.

“You listen to it?” he says, and if Michael didn’t know Calum like he does he would have missed the edge of nervousness to his voice.

“Yeah,” Michael says, and then he’s lost. How is he meant to sum up _I fucking love you so much Calum Hood don’t you ever dare leave me I love you so much you mean so much to me that meant so much to me that was worth so much more than any dinner date ever_?

“Like it?” Calum asks hopefully.

“Love you,” Michael says, and Calum smiles.

“Told you it was a dinner date,” he says.

“It was better than a dinner date,” Michael says.

“That’s ‘cause we’re better than a dinner date,” Calum says. “You make us better than a dinner date.”

“Shut up,” Michael says, because dinner date doesn’t sound like a phrase anymore.

“There’s my boy,” Calum says, and Michael thinks that if dictionaries had pictures his face right now would be next to the definition for _fond_.

“That’s me,” Michael says. “‘M yours.” Calum reaches an arm out, winds it around Michael’s waist, pulls him closer to the edge of the bunk.

“Stay that way,” he says.

“I’m staying that way,” Michael promises.

**Author's Note:**

> whispers hi pleas talk to me on [tumblr](http://irwinsvibes.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/calumbanter)


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